Especially when each and every single one of them decides to bum-rush you at the last minute.
As is the case with Katsucon, the little anime convention I am supposed to oversee. I've just finished spending nearly the ENTIRE AFTERNOON AND EVENING working out and making sure every single little detail that has been shoved aside has now been addressed.
At least, I can now confidently say it has been. I only hope everything works out and that nothing goes wrong.
While looking through these books, I stumbled upon a publication of student-made writing from my fourth grade class. One sample, in the "Creative Writing" section, struck me in particular. I don't know what the young author truly intended, as I moved to another school at the end of that year, but I thought I'd list, word for word, what was written, and provide post-commentary:
One peaceful day in the Marine Corps in Paris Island there was a mean drill instructor. The drill instructor got so mad at his platoon that he made the platoon crawl through the swamp.
While the platoon was taking their clothes off the drill instructor said, "Don't take off your clothes."
When they got into the swamp it was midnight so they couldn't see. While they were crawling in the swamp eight recruits were eaten by ten alligators. Everybody rushed out of the swamp screaming and woke everyone up, even the MPs. The MPs rushed into the jeep and drove to the swamp.
When they heard what happened the MPs arrested the drill instructor for murder, because the drill instructor knew that there were alligators in the swamp.
And so it ends, just like that.
I find it fascinating how much things have changed since that time. Back then, the teachers probably saw it as no more than the story of a child with an interesting imagination.
But, in this post-Columbine, post-9/11, post-good-old-days (the good old days being only 1995, in this particular case) world, if a child wrote something like that, the school certainly wouldn't publish it. They'd probably call a psychiatrist, do a background check on the parents to see what the father's military background was, and see if, perhaps, any domestic abuse was involved. They'd question what inspired him, and perhaps attempt to address it, and put an end to it. Maybe they'd eventually decide to remove him from the school and put him in an institution; maybe they'd put him on Ritilan, or keep him drugged up on some modern marvel which are pill-taking society is so quick to love.
Who knows?
Sometimes, I regret all of the civil liberties we have to give up to make absolutely certain our world is safe.
But maybe, perhaps, all of this is justified. Maybe Peter is now a senior at my old school, barely holding on to the edge, ready to snap anyday now and go on a rampage. And maybe, afterwards, they'll say, "If only we put him on Ritilan" or "If only we moved him to an institution" or "If only we didn't encourage his man-eating alligator fantasies". If only.
Who knows?
T.T.F.N.